Unmatched Wife: Not His To Claim Anymore novel Chapter 73

Chapter 73

Chapter 73

BIANCA

“…confirmed breach in the eastern sector..”

“..containment protocols need to be activated immediately…”

“…notify the security council, I want a full briefing in twenty minutes…”

Security council. Containment protocols. This wasn’t business talk. This was government business, high–level crisis

management.

The kind of language someone in serious political power would use.

I backed away from the door, my mind racing.

Rivera had resources that didn’t add up for a simple businessman. He’d arranged my entry to BloodMoon City with a single phone call when Matthew had been rejected multiple times. He had constant meetings about “property management” that required military–grade security language.

And Thorne Lockwood, the man who’d cursed Louis, was Chief of Staff to the Alpha King.

Which meant Thorne worked directly for the highest authority in BloodMoon City.

Which meant if Rivera was investigating Thorne, if we were building a case against him, Rivera had to have comparable power.

Had to be someone Thorne couldn’t easily dismiss or silence.

Who exactly was Lucian Rivera?

And why had he been hiding it from me?

The office door opened, and Rivera emerged looking tired and worried.

“Everything okay?” I asked, trying to sound casual.

“Territory security issue. Nothing you need to worry about.” But his voice was tight, distracted. “I’m sorry, I need to go into the office. There’s a situation that requires immediate attention.”

“At this hour?”

“Unfortunately.” He moved to grab his coat from the closet. “I’ll be back as soon as I can. Probably a few hours. Will you be all right here with Louis?”

“Of course.” I stood, wrapping my arms around myself. “Lucian, is everything-”

“It’s fine,” he said, but I could see the tension in his shoulders, the way his jaw was tight with stress. “Just work. Nothing to be

concerned about.”

He kissed my forehead quickly, a gesture that had become familiar over the weeks but still made my heart flutter.

“Congratulations again,” he said. “You earned this. All of it.”

Then he was gone, leaving me alone with my suspicions and the growing certainty that Rivera was far more than he’d ever admitted.

I looked at the medical bag on the couch, at the celebration banners still hanging in the living room, at the home I’d built in the spaces between this man’s secrets.

And I wondered how many more revelations were waiting to shatter the fragile peace I’d found.

Chapter 73

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The party was Rivera’s idea.

“You need to celebrate properly,” he’d said three days after my exam results posted. “With colleagues, friends, people who can appreciate what you’ve accomplished. Not just Louis and me making lopsided cakes.”

“The lopsided cake was perfect,” I’d protested.

“It was,” he’d agreed with a smile. “But you still deserve a real party. Let me do this for you?”

And because I was learning to accept kindness without questioning it, because part of me wanted to show the world that I’d succeeded despite everything, I’d said yes.

Now I stood in Rivera’s spacious living room–transformed with elegant decorations that were tasteful rather than excessive- and watched people I barely knew celebrate my accomplishments with genuine enthusiasm.

My new colleagues from BloodMoon General had shown up in force. Dr. Sarah Kim from the magical trauma unit, who I’d worked with during my hospital orientation, brought flowers and stories about her own board exam nightmares. Nurse James Wright, who’d appointed himself my work best friend within five minutes of meeting me, was holding court near the refreshments table, regaling anyone who’d listen with exaggerated tales of my clinical competence.

“I’m telling you,” James was saying to a group of residents, “she diagnosed a curse–induced arrhythmia in under three minutes. Three minutes! Most of us would have been running generic cardiac protocols for hours.”

“That’s because you would have missed the purple residue around the patient’s fingertips,” I said, joining the group with a glass of wine Rivera had pressed into my hands.

“See?” James gestured at me triumphantly. “Casual brilliance. This is what happens when you actually pay attention during the boring lectures.”

The residents laughed, and I found myself relaxing into the conversation, into the easy camaraderie that came from shared professional experiences.

This was so different from Matthew’s pack events. Different from the forced social situations where I’d been the rogue outsider, always one step removed from real acceptance. These people didn’t care about my lack of pack status or my unconventional background. They cared about my skills, my knowledge, my ability to contribute to the medical community.

“Dr. Morrison!” Another voice called from across the room, and I turned to see my next–door neighbor, Margaret Dunbar, making her way through the crowd with surprising agility for a woman in her seventies.

Margaret was a retired pack historian with opinions on everything and the kind of sharp intelligence that came from decades of observation. She’d introduced herself the day I’d moved into Rivera’s building, appearing at the door with homemade cookies and questions about my medical specialization. 1

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